


Day 7 - Garrison Days

by rainofgrenades



Series: Sheith Month 2017 [7]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Academy Era, Feelings, Fluff, Galaxy Garrison, Lessons, M/M, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Sheith Month 2017, Support, Teacher-Student Relationship, Uniforms, not acknowledged love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-13 00:18:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11748177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainofgrenades/pseuds/rainofgrenades
Summary: He wanted to be the best, he wanted to be the next Golden Ace.Even better than this nice man.Or, he found himself thinking, maybe just like him.





	Day 7 - Garrison Days

**Author's Note:**

> I am late, late , laaate!  
> Fanarts for this #SheithMonth fic: http://space-mull3t.tumblr.com/post/164978428009/inspired-by-rainofgrenades-s-fanfic

**“Y** ou’re getting better at this, Kogane!” the gentle, enthusiastic sentence startled Keith, so focused on the controls he almost forgot that was not an actual flight. His instructor’s voice came metallic from the little speaker placed on the dashboard of his simulator Flight Ship, reminding him how he wasn’t already lost in outer space.  
  
“Just slow down on those turns” Keith had no intentions to _slow down_ but an unrequired flashback reminded him how he chopped off the right wing during his previous training, so he sighed silently and followed the suggestion.  
  
The teacher was more excited than him in seeing him fly, Keith was confused by his constant, regular and almost overwhelming presence. It felt like being invaded in his own thoughts, but, after all, he always felt like that around strangers.  
Even though, he had to admit it to himself while raising the head of his ship to avoid an ice crest, that man was becoming less than a stranger.  
  
The landing was a success, not perfect but still the best one he managed to do in a week. He was really getting better.  
  
Walking out of the simulator, he couldn’t avoid the embarrassing confrontation whit the gray-dressed man; walking fast and averting his eyes never seemed to work with him.  
  
“I’m really proud of you” Keith could hear his _smile_ in these words and his cheeks threatened to burn red at the thought of the other students listening.  
“You’re learning fast and listening to your ship, and that’s what a good pilot should do. Ludes, let’s see if you can do better than that”  
  
Keith would have liked to grin, to raise his best smug expression and just tell the truth to the cadet entering the simulator after him: he could not do better than him. But all he managed to do was shoot a look to the teacher, already concentrated on the next cadet moves.  
He was young, so young Keith sometimes doubted he was a real instructor, but he was also great in his job. The whole Academy referred to him as the _Golden Ace_ of the Garrison, and Keith never suspected that to be wrong: the way in which he explained rules or flight manoeuvres seemed so natural, as if he was born to pilot planes and ships.  
  
Keith didn’t doubt, but he wanted to surprise him. To be even better than him. To outrun everyone.  
And he was in the Academy since less than five months.  
  
Seeing those grey eyes smile to him felt like a shot to his face. He saw him, he was _staring_.  
Promptly turning his gaze to the ground, Keith forced his head to avoid that corner of the room.

 

****

 

“Hey!” once more, Keith internally jumped at that voice. Would he ever stop doing it?  
The black-haired instructor let the studying room’s door close behind his back, soundless as ever, and sat in the empty chair next to him.  
His personal space was violated again, but, somehow, Keith didn’t feel bothered.  
  
“Good afternoon, Sir” Keith blinked at the man’s face, used to the simple hierarchy set at the Academy. Even though, again, _Sir_ felt slightly wrong, said to someone so near his age.  
  
“…you know I don’t mind the informal voice, Keith” the thick eyebrow arched, something in between amusement and confusion clear on the older one’s face.  
  
Keith shrugged, returning to his Mechanics exercises, pencil rhythmically tapping on the sheet next to the book. He let the most difficult problems last, as he usually did during his collaborating hours: those were apparently needed to learn to work with someone and, as hard as Keith tried to solve all of those exercises on his own, they were clearly designed to have him asking a senior.  
  
“So,” his eager teacher started, already spotted the problem Keith was trying to work on “are you sure it’s only a speed issue? Not a structural one? Just think about the last simulation: wouldn’t you have landed in a completely different way with a completely different engine?”  
He wasn’t answering the question, he was asking Keith more questions to make him understand. And Keith really did understand.  
  
They kept solving exercises together, Keith trying as always to ask what littlest he could while his patient teacher fixed his own documents, not once ignoring his student.  
Hours passed like minutes again, until the glow of the older one’s pad disappeared and Keith closed his book.  
  
“Thanks, Sir” Keith couldn’t help but repeat the formal word again, still afraid to call that guy with his name; he was a soldier with a higher rank, after all…  
  
“I’m afraid I’ll have to leave your side soon if you keep on with this pace, Keith. You’re one of the best students I ever had.” the sincere, unbiased praise made Keith’s chest burn with pride. He _wanted_ to be the best, he wanted to be the next Golden Ace.  
Even better than this nice man.  
Or, he found himself thinking, maybe _just like him_.  
  
He didn’t want to be alone again, though; he didn’t really befriend anyone during his months in the Academy and, truth be told, most of his time got spent with his teacher.  
He didn’t want those peaceful hours to end. He found help in those exercises-filled, private lessons which didn’t feel like lessons at all.  
It was _nice_ to spend that time talking with that soldier, learning without even noticing.  
It felt good.  
  
“…maybe you can help me with my PA extra hours?” the way in which that shy question left his throat ashamed him, and he actually felt the red warmth spread across his cheeks this time, avoiding the older one’s eyes. Why did he speak like that? Why did he sound so _hopeful_?  
  
The smile was audible again in the “I’ll gladly help you whenever you need me to” his instructor said.  
  
Standing, Keith found himself smiling too.  
“Thanks, Shiro.”  
  
It wasn’t the first time he used his actual name, but the joy that glowed on Mr. Shirogane’s features hearing it ignited something again in Keith’s chest.


End file.
